A Taste of Innocence
by LeStrangex
Summary: After the meeting at Malfoy Manor, Hermione is doubting her own feelings and morals of the wizarding war. Bellatrix has aquired a taste for something innocently forbidden, femslash in later chapters! You've been warned kiddies
1. Chapter 1

Finally, getting down to writing my first fanfiction WOO! hmm okay then, this is set in DH and will be containing Femslash/Smut so all you people have been warned! Okay i shall have to stop waffling because im actually starting to annoy myself. Also i do not own any of the Harry Potter stories, characters etc etc, yadder yadder! You've got JK Rowling to answer to that!  
- -Ciao fellow wizards/witches ~ Lestrangex

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_Chapter 1_

Her small form was suddenly pushed to the rough brick wall – demonic laughter filled the inky atmosphere, bringing discomfort to the lonely Gryffindor. Closing the small gulf, Hermione could sense her breath hitch at the proximity of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her own fear eradicated, she needed to prove herself. With her last shred of courage, she formulated a sentence through closed eyes. A mere whisper,

"B-Bellatr…" her words quickly silenced from a sharp backhand to her face. Barely audible, the dark witch moved closer, tucking a lock of Hermione's hair behind her ear. The gentle contact left the witch squirm – half from the need to escape, and half from her own sensitivity.

"Filth… you _DARE_ SPEAK MY NAME!" almost a growl as Bellatrix locked eyes with her pray. Jet black orbs fixed on the brunette's before her. She could taste the innocence, taste the nervousness as she pulled her eyesight away from young, dusty pink lips. The gesture was left unnoticed. Grasping at Hermione's hair, Bellatrix turned on her heel and marched the girl to the middle of the room and finally threw her to the cold, stark floorboards. Hermione was helpless, her friends taken away from her and left only with the company of the most feared Deatheater in the Magical World. The dark witch circled the fragile girl, Bellatrix's pallid traces formed a smirk.

"Dirty Mudblood! I shan't ask you again, what did you steal from my VAULT?"

"We didn't take anything… I-I promise Bella, pleasepleaseplease…" unable to contain her fear, her face grew wet with tears and brow highlighted by beads of sweat. The older witch raised a dark eyebrow, in a superficial expression of shock.

"Hmmm, really Muddykins? Well, I honestly don't believe don't believe you." Bellatrix twirled her talon shaped wand in hand, before she stopped pacing, just before her pray's head. Hermione clearly knew what was to come.

"_CRUCIO!" _Bellatrix watched in utter delight as the body before her winced in absolute pain. The young witch experiencing the white hot burn of thousands of needles, searing into her delicate untouched skin. The agony and hurt washed over her as the curse was lifted and left her cradling her knees in a foetal position. Watching for all signs and emotions on the Gryffindor's face, Bellatrix lowered her body and crawled onto the girl, straddling Hermione's waist and bringing her face clear into focus. The dark witch again leant into her face and pouted. "Awww, I guess my 'ickle Mudblood didn't enjoy that?" her breath was hot against Hermione's neck, and left her feeling blushed – through no fault of her own. Without loosening her grip nor losing eye contact, she reached into her sombre dress – exposing the bare skin of her toned thigh to which Hermione clearly couldn't avert her eyes. The years of Azkaban were present and yet she still carried the beauty and lure of any of the Black sisters. Bellatrix revealed a detailed a small silver dagger. Both witches eyes' widened; Hermione's out of sheer terror, while Bellatrix's from sheer sadistic pleasure.

"Now then, Mudslut…" Bella cooed. Hermione cringed at the such crude terminology and chose to ignore the vile insult. She continued, "Let's have some _fun!"_ she stressed that last word, cocking her head to the side for emphasis. The young witch violently shook her head in protest, resulting in another slap from the female Deatheater. "Now now, pet, play nice." She growled, running the flat side of the blade up the witch's body. Hermione inhaled whist raising her body in relation to the woman's actions which gained a cackle from the already grinning Bellatrix. Grabbing her left arm, the dark witch stroked the length of her tort limb before flourishing the knife and tarnishing the girl's milking skin. Pure, intense screams left Hermione light-headed and dizzy from her ordeal. Bellatrix's work could be classed as artistic – creative strokes of her knife across a blank canvas, emitting cries of 'harmony' according to the woman. Blood seeped from her craftsmanship; it glistened in the minimal light of Malfoy Manor. The dark witch tentatively dipped the tip of her finger across the open wounds on Hermione's arm and pressed it to her ruby lips.

"Absolutely filthy" she hissed, tasting the metallic crimson juices, and then running the length of her tongue down the girl's arm, cleaning her of the remaining blood. Hermione still clearly dazed from her found herself unable to hold back a gentle moan from her lips; _what was she thinking this was Bellatrix Lestrange! She reasoned with herself 'it was purely something primal, a domination? Get a grip, Hermione!' _Returning to reality, Hermione glanced to her left to see the new scar she bared…

'MUDBLOOD'

…and then to the mass of raven curls that surrounded the exposed flesh of her arm. Bellatrix sat back to study the girl's face, she flicked her wild mane of hair away. Hermione looked at the woman with hungry eyes which didn't go unnoticed; the dangerous woman simply winked and purred into the witch's neck.

"Your _mine_ now, Muddy."

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Im needing some reviews, any questions, theories, ideas and so on.. click that button melove ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello melove :) Right, i realised my first chapter was on the brief side so i decided to write more in the chapters to come!  
Okay chapter 2 is more plot..plot..plot so i how you enjoy the story! A final note: Thank you kindly to those individuals who reviews, seriously:_** You amaze** **me!**  
**allons y! - Lestrangex**_

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_Chapter 2_

The cold, lustful laugh tore through Malfoy Manor, clung to the corridors and embraced the dark dungeons, almost snuffed out by the cries of the red headed boy.

"HERMIONE! NOOO!" his ragged voice strained through the darkness, followed by the pounding of his white knuckled fists. Tired eyes, a blistering hue of red frantically darting around the room in a search for escape. A small hand rested on his shoulder calmed his motions. The comfort was gentle, a reminder of the missing tenderness in Ron Weasley's life.

"It will be okay, Ron. I sense a change in what is to come." She mused

"Luna's right Ron, we can't give up hop! Let's keep strong, for Hermione's sake."

"But she's up there with that psycho _BITCH_! Did you not forget, Bellatrix _killed_ Sirius! FUCKING MURDERER! AND SHE'LL KILL _HER _TOO!"

"I KNOW RON! _I know.." _the chosen one looked defeated as he joined his friend slumped on the floor. Time stood still at that given moment; frozen and fixed in a tableau of apathy, neither of the friends acknowledging each other, nor the young girl in their company. Another surge of laughter rattled through the bleak dungeons, which emitted a heartfelt scream from the red-haired boy. So lost in his own thoughts, Harry didn't notice the tug of his distressed jeans. "Dobby?"

"Harry Potter, Dobby has come to rescue you!" Squeaked the house elf – in delight, Harry dropped to his knees and cradled the creature before him.

"Dobby? But how?" questioned the boy. "You can apparate in and out of here?" Dobby frantically nodded before flashing his large twinkling eyes. "Please Dobby, take Luna and Mr Olivander to safety!" As he gestured to the unconscious elder man leant against the damp brick wall. Dobby flashed his approval and disapparated in a 'pop'.

"Bloody brilliant" sighed Ron.

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She could feel the saline streams that graced her already damp cheeks. She didn't care if she seemed pathetic in front of Deatheater nor that all traces of her Gryffindor courage had left – the only thing she could focus on was the dark witch sat above her eye line. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she couldn't control her own thoughts. Lazily, Bellatrix trailed her crimson nails down the frightened girl's jaw, forcing their eyes to meet again.

"What's wrong pet? Afraid of the Big… _Bad_… Deatheater?" she purred through pouted lips. Hermione struggled against the older woman, who resorted to pinning the witch's arms above her head. "Answer me…" The Deatheater edged closer. Hermione couldn't breathe, her judgement clouded by the intoxication that was Bellatrix Lestrange. The dark witch slowly moved a damp curl from the girl's heated face and tucked it effortlessly behind her ear. "Answer me, Muddy…" then continuing to trail down Hermione's neck. Something stirred in the young witch's stomach, was it fear? Was it anger or humiliation? Hermione simply didn't know but it didn't stop her from whimpering her name.

"Bella…"

Bellatrix moved away to survey the girl beneath her, resting her own hands on the slight hips of the younger woman. A million thoughts flashed before her: lust, hunger, need, disgust. But all were suddenly burst by the crash of an ornate door. Stood in all her brilliance was Narcissa Malfoy.

"Bella?" First a deadly sneer at the sight before her. Her own sister, Bellatrix Lestrange in the presence of a 'Mudblood!' It sickened her, disgusted her that someone as high calibre was given the task of torturing 'filth'. "Bella!" echoed through the empty room, to which the witch sighed and glared at her baby sister – in her frustration digging her nails into Hermione's waist causing her to wince in pain. "The boys have escaped the dungeon, their looking for the _Mudblood_!" hissed the blonde witch.

"Hear that, pet? The Weasel and Potter are coming to get you-" that sing song voice brought no comfort to the already terrified Gryffindor. "But you're not going, _anywhere._" She whispered seductively. Suddenly crash and malevolent sounds of curses and spells filled the empty corridors of Malfoy Manor. It was Harry and Ron, fighting their way through Deatheaters – Wormtail, Greyback and even Draco.

"HERMIONE!"

At the sight of the ginger school boy, Bellatrix forced Hermione to stand; wrapping an arm around her waist in support for the fragile girl but also to show her dominance.

"Cissy, dispose of this.. FILTH!" followed by a sinister cackle. Then, the flourish of reds and greens, hexes and curse, spells spiralling, hitting, disarming.

"STUPEFY" Cried Ron

"EXPULSO" Interjected Draco

"REDUCIO"

"CRUCIO" Narcissa cursed

"EXPELLIARMUS" screamed a very breathless Harry, leaving the blonde witch in utter shock. Whilst Bellatrix reached for the blood smeared knife she whispered to the girl before her.

"Shhh pet, that _Weasel _won't get his hands on you…" Somehow the dark witch's comment seemed to lessen the movement from the worried Hermione Grainger. What was she thinking, letting her guard down whilst enclosed in the most dangerous dark witch in the magical world – someone who hated essence, every fibre she was made up of and yet, she found a form of dysfunctional comfort in the Deatheater's touch. And almost in a complete contrast, she quickly positioned the knife across the girl's pulse point. "DROP YOUR WANDS!" The boy's reluctantly followed orders.  
"Well well well… Harry Potter. All shiny and new…" her eyesight trailed to Hermione in her arms and then to the sudden appearance of her brother-in-law, Lucius Malfoy who dominantly wrapped an arm around her baby sister. "Call him." Bellatrix ordered coldly in her disgrace.

The soft timberal texture of the crystal could be heard over head to which Hermione and Bellatrix both simultaneously glanced up to see the small house elf present on the elegant chandelier. The dark witch moved a hand up the Gryffindor's body followed by an instant mutter.

"Move.."

The crystal light fitting hurtled towards the floor as the Deatheater pushed Hermione into the arms of the young boys and skilfully avoided the mass of fragmented glass. In that second, Narcissa noticed something different in her elder sister; in her eyes. Before it flashed into the all too familiar sadistic fury!

"Stupid house elf! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!"

"Dobby only intended to seriously harm.."

With that the elf turned to disapparate from the manor, to which Hermione could only look back at her captivator.

"FUCKING HOUSE ELF!" In all her frustration, the female Deatheater threw her treasured silver blade at the apparating party, to which she was successful. Hermione felt at the pit of her stomach the ever familiar feeling of the magical departure.

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On arrival of the deserted beach, Hermione froze at the horror before her. Harry cradling the limp and lifeless elf, rocking his fragile form in the damp sand…

…Dobby the elf was dead.

The numerous tears shed on that one beach could not be washed away by the transcending messy raindrops from the murky, colourless sky. The boys silently left the makeshift grave of their once loved elf; whilst Hermione took her time to reflect on the events that happened only moments ago. And so the young girl sat alone in the damp grass with the only two reminders of Bellatrix Lestrange: the everlasting scar left on her now imperfect skin, and the newly found silver blade which she held in her palm, remembering its significance to the elder witch.

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What do you think lovies!:') as always, reviews are much appreciated.. Click that lovebutton, i know you want to!.. ;)


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